“Ah yes, Mr. Dodge, he has not been around as much as he used to. May I ask, what that is about?” he questioned her.
She reached over and laid a firm hand on his arm, smiling childishly.
“You may ask, Daddy. But whether I answer is another story altogether.” During the brief time they had met, she knew Whip had found Josiah to be a fine fellow, but she knew he was very partial to Quillan and for good reason. Few men were finer than Quillan but they both wanted different things out of life and could not seem to make it work.
“Wow, look at that!” She finished loudly, as the stage whizzed towards them and she spied the front wheel wobbling uncontrollably, eager to steer the conversation away from her former flame, regretting having brought him up in the first place. “One of the wheels looked like it was about to come off!”
Just as it went past, raising dust in its wake, the stage hit a rock and sure enough, it happened. Looking back, Honor watched with horror as the coach lost control and tumbled forward and hard afterward, the luggage formerly strapped to the roof scattering about while screams pierced the air from within.
Honor quickly tugged on the reins, slowing the elegant coach, preparing to turn it so they could go back and help.
“Oh my, Daddy! Those people may be hurt!” she explained, and her father nodded mutely, also looking back as she turned the coach around.
“Yes, Honor. Let’s see what we can do,” he said with a concerned frown.
Luckily, as they rode up to the overturned coach, the driver waved, confirming that he was alright.
“We were bound for Alamieda. This lady was the only passenger on this last leg of the route, and she’s hurt.” He told Honor and her father, pointing to a woman lying on the ground, apparently having been ejected in the calamity.
“We were bound for Alamieda,” The man repeated worriedly as they hopped off their own coach and knelt next to the woman. He was still in a daze as to what had happened and Honor nodded, understanding how he felt at the moment. The passenger obviously wasn’t as lucky as the driver was. She was beautiful and had radiant dark hair speckled with white. With her wide face and tanned skin, she seemed like she was Mexican to Honor. Whip looked her over, too, to see if she would be okay and nodded his confirmation at Honor.
“We need to get her to our ranch and then round up the doc fast,” he said.
Honor nodded in agreement and was about to help the woman into their carriage when she noticed a letter sticking out of the woman's bodice. She snatched it to find out who she was, unconsciously reading the envelope out loud.
“To Señor Sampson Dewitt … Triple W Ranch. Introducing Marisol San Cristobel,” she finished and smiled slightly, a mischievous idea already building up in her head. She felt excitement coursing through her body just as she glanced up to notice a horseman riding up towards them.
“It’s one of our men from the ranch,” her father said with relief as the man came up and dismounted near them.
“Judge Wilde, the foreman gave me the day off and I was just riding into town. Do you need some help?” he asked.
Honor recognized him as Benson Rose, who everyone called "Thorny," one of Catalina's favorite cowhands. Catalina, the youngest of the Wilde sisters, was responsible for the ranch's entire cattle operation and she only picked the best men for the job.
“Thorny, you help my daddy and the driver get that woman back to Cedar Ledge. I am going to borrow your mount,” Honor told him, getting to her feet. She didn’t bother to see him nod to her instructions. She raced to their carriage and got her binoculars, and then she headed for the cowhand’s horse.
“What are you doing, Honor?” her father called after her, having heard every word she read out from the envelope before making her current decision.
“This is my chance, Father,” she told him as she mounted the horse. He knew she had always wondered who ran the Triple W Ranch. Surely, he should know what she meant to do.
“If you are actually thinking of going out to the Triple W, then I forbid it. I just told you I was happy to be coming home so you could keep out of trouble!” She heard him groan. “That’s owned by a syndicate that we know nothing about. After all these years, if they can keep it a secret, it must be dangerous, Honor. For all we know, it could be a gun hawk roost filled with men who shoot first and ask questions later!” he said worriedly.
Honor wasn’t worried, she knew what she was doing.
“They wouldn’t shoot a woman!” she said.
It was a bold and wholly unsubstantiated statement, she knew, but now seemed like a time to throw caution to the wind in favor of curiosity.
“For six years, since they took it over, I’ve been dying to see what they have got beyond their fences and this is the perfect passport. Besides, they need to be informed of Miss San Cristobel’s accident,” she told him as she gathered up the reins to the horse.
“Honor Elizabeth, wait, stop!” her father called to her.
She didn’t listen. She put her heels to the horse’s side and got it to lunge forward.
“I will be fine, Daddy! Heyahhh!” she cried just as the animal took off at a quick canter and then into a gallop. She leaned forward, loving the fast pace, and all the excitement at the prospect of the discovery that would soon be at hand.
Behind her, the cowhand stepped towards Judge Wilde and muttered with an assuring smile, “Don’t worry, Judge, your daughters are among the most capable women in this here territory.”
The Judge knew it without a doubt that it was true.
“I can’t argue that,” he said. “It’s just that I always feel better when they are together and not off doing something on their own. There is strength in numbers, lad.”
“Now come on, I need your help with this woman,” he told Thorny, convincing himself with a groan that there wasn’t a need to worry about his stubborn daughter.
CHAPTER 12
* * *
The Triple W was a mystery to most of the residents of the area, its unusual landscape being one of its mysteries. It was located at the edge of town, quite close to the always-buzzing trading area. But any of the gently rolling hills that might have given the townspeople a high view access into the heart of the ranch to see what it really looked like, now lay behind the fencing that surrounded the entire property. A shroud of secrecy seemed to envelop the land behind its large iron gate and long adobe wall that ran along the front of the property, separating the public from the twelve-thousand-acre plantation with a large stream helping the fencing further barricading its rear from the world beyond.
Before the entire ranch had been procured by its new owners, it had existed just like most ranches; a beautiful landscape with its large stream and its beautiful but small hills anyone could visit for a picnic. That ended seven years ago. Quickly, the adobe wall along the front of the property had been constructed and the rest of the borderland that was connected to the stream had been fenced by the ranch's new owners. No one had gone on the property ever since.
As she approached the high walls of the ranch, Honor Elizabeth thought about how the owners of the ranch had gotten all their supplies shipped onto the compound without any of the servicemen ever going through the town. They had once refused to let a sheriff's posse cross the land as well, and she had always been incredibly curious about the place.
People had taken to calling them the Syndicate believing it to be an operation run by a group of nameless, faceless money men back east somewhere. There was no proof of this, mind you, that this syndicate actually existed, mind you, she thought, but the name had stuck. On the rare times, men from the ranch came to town they, too, having picked it up from the townspeople, began referring to themselves as such. Perhaps they had done it to make people believe there really was an eastern consortium behind the Triple W … to hide the true owners, she pondered? Finally, she was about to learn something about it, and it was high time that someone did, she told herself! Honor Elizabeth was more than happy to be that s
omeone.
Riding along the breadth of the adobe wall heading for the main gate preparing to present the note introducing Marisol San Cristobel, her gaze caught something along the wall. A bush up ahead seemed to be blowing in the wind, but it abutted the wall and it was as if the wind was blowing out of the wall. Riding close, she discovered a small hole in the wall, where the adobe had crumbled away and the wind was blowing through. The rent was almost invisible because of the tall bushes that had grown so close to it.
Perhaps Whip may have been right about his concerns and a healthy dose of caution might be in order. Making up her mind, she would slip through the hole and do a little reconnaissance first and try and get a feel for the place before she returned to the gate and attempted to make her presence known with the note.
Quickly dismounting her horse and hiding it in a nearby group of oversized boulders where it would be hard to detect, she squeezed herself through the crack and made her way up and down a couple of hills before stopping on a ridge that overlooked the vast landscape. She pulled out her binoculars to survey the terrain, noticing with curiosity, cattle gathering along the creek down below her.
She studied the cattle and the men below her intently, her field glasses never missing any movement. Something seemed off about the entire settings. It was a working trail with thin cattle. The men on the ranch seemed to be blotting brands on the animals and they were in a hurry for some reason. She knew from Cattie that you didn’t usually rush those things.
Unless … she wondered about rustling, but she hadn’t heard any reports of wrangling in the area, but that didn’t mean a damn thing given this was the West with a lot of emptiness to shield activities that were beyond the pale. Determined to see if she could find anything more unusual to prove her suspicions, she continued to study the men and the cattle, wishing she could hear what they were saying.
If only she knew that her guesses were close to the mark. Beneath her were cattle rustlers, happily and remorselessly branding their new property.
***
Sampson Dewitt, a heavy-set man with bushy eyebrows below a sloping brow, watched anxiously through his gray eyes as his men re-branded one of the new cows. The cowhands were slowly arranging the cow and setting the brand. Time was being wasted as far as Sampson was concerned. He had heard a few things that made him nervous and the quicker the job was done, the better.
“Don’t care a hoot if the brand looks blotched. Just cover up the old mark,” he told the man with the branding iron, trying to get everything wrapped up as soon as possible and get this latest herd moved off the Triple W.
“Why the rush, Mr. DeWitt? The law snoopin’ around?” the cowhand asked.
“I’m not sure, there is something cooking from the Mexican end,” Sampson groaned, hating to speak of the news as much as he had hated it when he heard about it. “Information has been leaking out, and San Cristobel has gone silent with his telegrams. That can only mean one thing. He’s sending an envoy with some information so sensitive it needed to be hand delivered.”
“Bad time for a raid to hit us. Them Senora bulls are a dead giveaway,” the hand replied, shaking his head.
Sampson shook his head, too. There was never a good time for a raid. This deal he had with Mexico long been a huge profit maker and he refused to let it go up in smoke due to negligence on his part or the part of anyone working for him. He had grown up poor and bitter, having known no parents to care for him or any family that knew that he existed. He had just woken up to life as a child on the street, robbing coins from pockets and sometimes begging to feed himself.
He had been taken in a few times by men and women, but nothing good had come from it. They either wanted him with his weenie hands to rob carriage boxes or work as a young boy that pleasured for coins. Soon, he had grown with a hard heart, tired of doing what others bid him to do for money that would eventually not be fully his. He would pave the way for his own wealth, whether by law or not, he had told himself. Now … now he was a rich man with an eye to be even richer. He had found his way, and nothing would deny him of his quota in the world’s riches. Thus, nothing mattered more than maintaining his alliance with the Mexican crime cartel headed up by Esteban San Cristobel.
You have done well for yourself, Sampson Dewitt, he told himself, his hand unconsciously brushing his sandy hair as pride beamed through his racing heart.
***
Meanwhile, Honor had finally decided to back out of the Triple W. She had spent minutes with her binoculars, looking for anything by way of solid proof, but she had seen nothing concrete. Still, she had a bad feeling about this augmented when she had spied armed, two men patrols on the property and decided it would be best to get back to Cedar Ledge and she and Whip could figure out what to do about informing the Syndicate about their visitor's accident.
She began to work her way off the ridge to return to the tear in the wall, thinking about how, despite witnessing no solid proof, she could feel it. Then why are you leaving with no proof? She thought to herself. Something crooked was surely going on in the here, handily explaining all the secrecy and the armed men, she thought, knowing a lawless place when she saw one. Her father was right, she also thought, with something afoot here, she shouldn’t have come.
She was halfway down the hill closest to the wall when she heard a rustling sound in the brush and froze, hoping it was some type of wildlife, like a jackrabbit. Before she could start moving again, however, she heard a shout, turning right on time to stare into the brownest eyes she had ever come across. The man was dark-haired, with his once fair skin deeply tanned and he was muscular and tall. Despite the speed he took, rushing towards her, she couldn't help but notice his thin lips and the way his wide shoulders strongly clenched as he reached for her.
“I got her, Ramone, and this one we aren’t killing! It’s a woman!” The man shouted to someone unseen while grabbing her.
The voice sounded distant to Honor's ears but she had no problem making out what it was shouting. "We got us a spy on Hatchet Hill, hombre!" I knew I saw her glass shine!" As Honor struggled the man tried to keep her from moving with his heavy frame. In her mind, she was furious that she had been exposed in such a manner but it made sense now. The position of the sun would easily have reflected off her field glasses.
“Yeah, and the tracks from her small feet let me right to her!” the man holding her shouted to his yet unseen companion.
She acted then, twisting and sidestepping the swinging handgun he was trying to draw on her with. She grabbed his arm and used his own momentum to swing him away from her.
“Hell, she is a tough one!” he shouted, quickly grabbing one of her arms. She tried to twist away once again and kicked out, hitting his thigh. He staggered back, yet kept a hold of her arm, dragging her with him with a grunt. She tripped over a root and stumbled forward, but he managed to turn her around with her arms behind her, finally making her immobile. She muttered a soft curse, certain that Cassandra would be embarrassed for her getting caught so easily.
Looking up she saw the other man he had called Ramone appear at the top of the hill. “I’ll handle her, you light a shuck for the creek and tell the other patrols what I’m fetching!”
“I am simply trying to deliver a letter to Mister DeWitt and inform him of an accident!”
Ramone hesitated for a moment before nodding to her captor.
“Si, Jeb!” he called to the man holding her before disappearing down the other side of the slope once more.
Honor cursed under her breath again, this time trouble had not found her, she had gone looking for it and was now being amply rewarded.
***
The sun was gradually setting behind the hills and mountains across from Cedar Ledge as Whip stood close to the window of the spare room on the ground floor of his ranch house, captivated by its beautiful but dying rays. The sky, still in its evening brightness was proof that it hadn't taken long for them to drive up to the ranch and set up the spare room for
the injured woman. This room, unlike most rooms in the large ranch house, was small but it was quite comfortable with its two bright lamps, a plush armchair and a small bed big enough for two people.
The injured woman was resting behind him on the bed now, needing all the sleep she could get. Amongst other things to think of, Whip still worried about his absent daughter but tried to temper his concern because his confidence in her abilities was high as it was with all his children. The situations they had handled over the years had been legion and they always managed to come through it, sometimes worse for wear, but they always came home.
He didn’t have the time to continue dwelling on his concerns as the woman, Marisol San Cristobel, groaned and stirred behind him. He hurried to sit beside her and leaned forward with a smile as she slowly opened her eyes.
“What … what happened?” she asked groggily.
“Good to have you coming to. You were in a bad accident, but you were lucky, other than that bruise on your forehead, you got off okay. Doc Duncan says there are no broken bones,” Whip informed her.
“Doc?” She asked confused.
“He’s in the kitchen right now. He’s preparing you a sleep potion you can use to get rested, dear lady.”
“You are very kind; did you pull me from the wreck? I remember now, the stage going out of control,” she said, obviously trying to piece things together in her mind.
“I didn’t act alone. My daughter, Honor Elizabeth, helped me,” he told her.
“I am deeply in your debt.
“It’s nothing any gentleman wouldn’t do for you. Have you come all the way from Mexico, Miss San Cristobel?” he asked politely.
“Si. San Lupe Pedro. Have you heard of it?” she asked.
“Absolutely. That big cattle town on your side of the border in the Canebraro. My daughters Lijuan, Catalina, and I travel there to do business all the time. Lijuan, she runs the finances at the ranch for the family and my little peppercorn, Cattie, knows cattle like nobody’s business, so she runs the cattle side of things. She can pick the best steers out of an entire herd,” He told her proudly. He never could help bragging about his little girls.
The Forbidden Ranch: Honor Elizabeth Wilde Tale 0f Suspense (Half Breed Haven Book 5) Page 8